


Chapter XI: The Clearing of Rain, Part 1

by SallySS



Series: Love Trunk [13]
Category: Claymore
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Religion Critical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallySS/pseuds/SallySS
Summary: Excerpts from the daily life of Rona, a new addition to the warriors known as Claymore, led by the mysterious Organization. Follow her through her struggles and triumphs as she fights to survive against the flesh craved yoma and awakened beings.- Stella and Rona continue to make their way towards the last survivor of the previous generations.





	Chapter XI: The Clearing of Rain, Part 1

“How long was I asleep?” Rona could feel a tinge of an ache in her legs from not moving them for an extended period of time. She took a seat on the floor and began to stretch out the muscles to loosen them.  
  
Stella sat silent, running her thumbs along the black neckcloth she had retrieved from her friend’s corpse before putting it in its eternal resting place. The quiet was disconcerting, almost eerie and unnatural, Stella just lost in a trance of rubbing her thumbs in tight little circles along the embroidered symbol.   
  
Rona looked over to her superior, but the woman didn’t respond at all. She ran a hand over the back of her neck before letting it flop limply to her side with a sigh. Stella spent much more time with Stephanie than Rona had, they had been paired together for longer than Rona had even been a warrior; it was obvious that there was a strong bond between the two that ran deeper than what their outward appearances had suggested. Rona had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions at bay, thinking it must be hell to lose your family _twice._   


“I’ll be right back.” Rona whispered, the tension in the room too tight to speak any louder. She picked herself up off the ground and gave one last look to her unmoving comrade before heading quietly out the door.

 

When finally outside the inn, Rona saw that they were farther east than last she remembered, far removed from the ghost town that had been made of the city from the north. “Damn she carried me a long way.” She took a deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the smell of fish and salt, “Near the ocean.” Rona was a sight to see as she meandered through the town. She wore her uniform pants and the sabaton, as they were the only footwear available to her, but she wore no other armor, and the shirt that was given to her by Delilah. Delilah… she hadn’t been with the hunting party when they attacked, or at least not within the barn; she was most likely still tracking them. Rona felt a little bare without the weight of her weapon strapped to her back, but with what she had witnessed lately, she might as well be a wailing babe compared to the raw power of those warrior that outranked her, her sword would make little difference in the outcomes of those battles.  
  
A bell chimed as Rona stepped into a shop, glancing around at the rows of fabric of all colors and patterns. She kept a mind to step lightly on the hardwood floors as to not draw attention to her armored feet, meandering to the section of the store with the premade clothes. Goddesses, she hated dresses, but it was the only thing in her size, it would have to do. With two dresses, two hooded cloaks, and a side eye from the shopkeep, Rona made her way to find footwear and a few other things in the town. It was a successful day with surprisingly little resistance from the townspeople, new outfits in hand for her and Stella, but she just couldn’t head back to that eerily silent room yet. She truly missed Stephanie, she did, but Stella’s sorrow seemed to swallow up all positivity in its presence, and Rona just did not have the energy to endure it right this minute.   
  
Rona made her way to a tavern, a fairly well kept building compared to the scummy ones back home. She took a seat in the back, scanning the room and taking note of the situation. The barmaid startled her a bit as a tankard of ale was set heavily down on the table in front of her, “Ya don’t look like them usual witches that pass through ere. Ya deserter or sumthin?” Her tone was almost playful, an amused smile on the maid’s face. The lady was a tad intimidating, she was neither excessively fat nor built of muscle, but some harmonious combination, sharp and powerful in places, but curvy and soft in others. Her hair was long and braided back with a green ribbon, the color striking against her bright red hair.   
  
Rona picked up the tankard and sampled the ale; it was good, not too sweet and from a well tended harvest, probably something local. “You could call me that, I guess.” She chuckled, “This is pretty good ale, orchard somewhere near?”   
  
“Aye, ya have a taste fo the good stuff huh? Been in my family fo generations, it’s the fish guts that gets em growin tall and strong.” The woman seemed to beam at the appreciation. “Wait there a mom’t dear.” She patted Rona’s head, mussing her hair. The woman’s large hands were a little rough with everything, a sign of a hard worker.   
  
Rona snickered to herself a bit as she relaxed into her drink, she needed to feel a bit more normal at the moment. All the things that had been coming at her, the deaths, the conspiracies, the fucked up shit that she was witnessing, she just needed some time away from it all to get a grip on her sanity and pull her soul out of the well of despair it had fallen into.   

The woman came back with two things in hand, in one was a mug with a spoon sticking out of it and in the other a dice tumbler. She sat across from Rona and slid the mug over. “See ‘ow ya fancy that!”

The smell hit her first, the cinnamon and baked apples, the sweet crumble topping with thick cut oats, fresh from the field, the heat radiating off of it, still hot from the oven. Rona took the spoon in hand and dug into the dish, the tender apples giving way to the utensil, the whole dish caramelized together neatly in a golden hue that reminded Rona a lot of Adaira’s eyes. She took a bite and almost melted to the ground as the cornucopia of flavors spread across her tongue. Rona closed her eyes and tilted her head back, holding the treat in her mouth, letting the warmth radiate in her mouth and the taste dance on her tongue.

  
Goddesses, it felt like home… 

  
“Do ya not like it, dear?” The maid snapped Rona from her thoughts.   
  
Rona blinked her eyes open and realized that she had tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes with her shirt sleeve and finished chewing and swallowing the dessert. “No, no I love it.” She rubbed her face a little more and sniffled, a bit embarrassed. “I… thank you.”   
  
“Oh dun mention it dear. Ya know how t’ play dice?” She picked up the tumbler and gave it a good shake, the dice clicking around inside.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Rona had a good time playing dice with Margaret, or Margo as the barmaid prefered to be called. They joked and laughed and drank, and for a little while Rona got to push all this misery from her mind. They talked about Margo’s orchard and her tavern, the woman’s family, funny stories from the folks who passed through and the regulars that had their special quirks. They talked about Rona’s time in the army, the bakery, and her fiance that waited for her back at home.   
  
Margo chuckled as she took a drink from her own tankard, “Fo an army brat, ya quite the poet when talkin’ bout that lil angel o’ yours.”   
  
Rona shook the tumbler and smacked the dice down, assessing her score. “She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She set the tumbler down and chewed on her lip absentmindedly. “I fear that with my leaving, she might believe I think otherwise. I haven't had a chance to visit or send word of my well being since I left, I don’t want her to think I died, or even worse, abandoned her. I love her with all my heart.”   
  
Margo sat back in her chair and looked out over the patrons that mulled about. She shoved her fingers in her mouth and whistled loud enough that you could probably hear her from down the road. “Oi boys, wasn’t one of ya’s goin’ to Toulouse in a fortnight?”   
  
A dusty man stood up and raised his tankard, “Aye Margo, what can we do ya for?”   
  
“This youngin needs a letter sent to her sweet’eart in Aalberad. Think ya can manage tha fava fo a friend?” She raised her tankard in response to him, apparently Margo was close with everyone who came into her tavern.   
  
The man squinted at Rona, looking her over suspiciously. “Oi Margo, I knows ya ain’t colludin’ with none of them silver witches.”   
  
Rona feigned innocence, “Me? Why, what would make you think that _I’m_ a claymore?” She really laid on the faux concern, but apparently the man was too dense to pick it up.   
  
“Well, yous pale as the moon, no color to ya. N’ ya ears, they’s all pointed-like. An the silver eyes, them’s ain’t natural.”   
  
Rona touched her chest like she was hurt by his words. “Sir, I am hurt at such assumptions _._ Do you see a sword upon my back? Armor? A uniform of white? Do you see me tracking or slaying yoma? Has your town even sent for a silver eyed witch?”   
  
“Well… no ma’am.” He shuffled a bit, the wind taken from his sails.   
  
Rona sat back in her chair and swigged her ale, “I may look different than the people you’re used to, but you look different than the people I’m used to too.”   
  
Margo gave a hearty laugh, and slapped her tumbler down. “15! I do believe that’s game, Miss Rona.”   
  
Rona leaned over the dice to closely examine the roll, “Well i’ll be damned, if anyone’s a witch around here i’m suspecting it might be you, Margo.” They both chuckled and finished their drinks.   
  
“Are ya stickin’ ‘round for a touch yet dear?” Margo picked up the dishes and looked like she was making her way to the kitchen.   
  
“Ah, no. It was honestly a great time, but I have to get back. I have a friend in mourning that I need to tend to.” She helped clean up the table and followed Margo to the kitchen away from the bustle of the bar.   
  
“ ’S too bad dear, it was good ‘avin ya stop in. Ya bring that letta ta me before ya leave town ‘n i’ll make sure the boys get it ta ya beloved. An if ya need to stop in fo a drink or a bite, jus waltz on in anytime.” She gave a solid nod, wiping her hands on her apron.   
  
Rona smiled and nodded back, “Thanks so much Margo, you don’t know how much this means to me.”   
  
“Ahhhhh, we’ve all been young ‘n in love befo’ , I know how impo’tant it is to ya dear.” She pulled Rona into a tight hug. “Ya jus be careful out there now, ya’s a good child.”   
  
Rona smiled and hugged back, appreciating the warm welcome and hospitality she received.

When they parted, Margo set her hands roughly on Rona’s shoulders and smiled at her, “Well ya betta ask me what’s on ya mind befo’ it eats ya.”  
  
“Caught red handed.” Rona chuckled, but then looked down, licking her lips. “I just… You know what I am, why did you approach me with open arms?”   
  
“Because child, I know ya aren’t as bad as people think ya are. Everyone else jus sees the silver, they dun look past it an see the human ya still are inside. Ya all are jus girls yet, fightin for these sad sacks, riskin ya lives fo us. We should be thankin all of ya, not pushin ya out o’ society. Miss Rona, ya told me y’ was a soldier even befo’ all this, ya been fightin ya whole life! That’s what I saw in ya, the spirit inside; that’s why I approached ya.” She papped Rona’s cheek and smiled to get the other to smile in return.

“Wish everyone had the same mentality.” They said their goodbyes and Rona left the tavern, much more composed than she had come in.

 

\--------------------------------------  
  
Rona made her way back to the inn and frowned when she saw that Stella hadn’t moved. “Hey, I got us something.” She pulled the clothing out of the bag, along with some candles, incense, and silk ribbon.   
  
Stella looked over at the items, “What are they for?”   
  
“Well, I don’t know if you’re the religious type, but I figured it might be good to go pray at the local church. It’s always helped to bring me a sense of calm.” Rona shrugged. “Only if you want to.”   
  
Stella was quiet for a while as she worked over the idea in her mind, staring at the clothing and items, but then she gave a gentle nod, trusting in Rona’s insight.   
  
The two ladies dressed in their black clothing, putting their armor and uniforms safely under the bed before heading to the local church. It was borderline harrowing just how anonymously they could move through the city in such clothing. Warriors got so used to every eye boring into them that when people paid them no mind it made them feel like they were invisible, like the ghosts of people long past gliding along the streets, unseen by the living.   
  
The church was quaint, just two short rows of pews of worn wood and velvet seats that had lost their texture, a harp that’s seen better days with nics in the wood and paint flaking off, a simple pine podium without carvings or paint, and small altar that was covered in the stains of the hundreds of candles burned upon it with a statuette of the twin goddesses situated in the center, undeniably the nicest thing in the building.   
  
The duo approached the altar and Stella followed Rona’s lead, kneeling when the other did. Rona took the candles she brought and handed one to Stella, leaning forward to light her candle on ones that were already burning there, placed by the church. As Stella leaned forward to mimic the action, Rona lit the incense and placed it at the bottom of the statuette, the lazy smoke curling up around the nooks and crannies of the marble robes and the smooth pale faces.   
  
Stella looked over at Rona as the smaller warrior closed her eyes to sit in silent prayer. “Rona? Why do you pray to the Twin Goddesses and not the God of Rabona? You are from around the holy city, aren’t you?”

Rona opened her eyes, turning to Stella, “Well, I always found the God of Rabona to be… conceited. The goddesses help the sick and poor, they watch over pregnant women and children, they heal soldiers returning from war and steady the blades of those fighting for a just cause, they enlighten and guide with a steady hand and they truly love humanity; but the God of Rabona is easily angered if he’s not provided with proper offerings, he has those who fight be subservient to the people of his church, even though it takes more guts and faith to fight and die for your god than to just pray and be protected, and the thing I hate worst of all is that his absolution must be bought. We are humans, we will all hurt others at some point or another, shouldn’t a perfect being understand that an imperfect being can be forgiven for such things?”  
  
Stella looked back up to the statuette, studying the women’s features. “I was never very religious myself; my family couldn’t afford to take the day off of work to go to church, nor could we afford the fancy clothes, so I never learned much about the Gods and Goddesses. We never tithed to the church, and yet our crops grew just the same as our neighbors. We still got our coin from business, and we still got sick in the winter, so I never had a reason to believe that putting my faith in these invisible people could ever benefit me, since it never put our neighbors above us.”   
  
Rona nodded, “And I didn’t mean to bring you here to force my beliefs onto you. But out of all things, death is one aspect that humanity seems to have no answers for. To be completely unknowledgeable of something is to fear it; so to act like you understand, even if your ideas are false, brings a sense of comfort. I don’t have any answers for how this world works, but if I can control my fear then I can keep moving forward.”   
  
“I think in a way, that might be all that religion is; a way to control our fears. The world is a terrifying place, and for much of it we are truly alone. But to believe there is someone watching over you, with the power to protect and love you, I can see the appeal.” Stella went quiet and looked down at her lap and the candle she held in her hands, the flame flickering on her every exhale. “I can no longer watch over Stephanie, so if she is now in a place that I can not follow, and these goddesses you believe in do exist, I would like to ask them to watch over her for me, and to be a better protector of her than I was.”

Rona took out the silk ribbon and handed it to Stella, “They say when you come in memory of someone who is passed, you should bring a silk ribbon to tie to one of the goddesses’ wrists. That way they can find the soul in the next life and give that loved one the ribbon so they know they are being thought of in the world of the living.”  
  
Stella nodded and set the candle in a holder on the altar. She stood so she could reach the statuette’s wrists, and carefully tied the cloth into a small bow on Teresa’s wrist. Her arms fell to her sides as her eyes fixated on the small swatch of fabric, her look somber. The pain in Stella’s heart was palpable, and Rona was sure she blamed herself for what had happened.   
  
“We can’t change the past, but our hands can shape the future.” Rona offered the small tidbit of wisdom.

“And we will make it so no one has to suffer for naught at the hands of the organization like she did.”

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Before leaving town the next day, Rona brought Stella to the tavern to grab a bite to eat and to drop off her letter to Adaira. Stella was still fairly silent, but Margo helped to bring her out of her slump a bit. The two warriors headed out of town a little less melancholic than they had entered.  
  
It wasn’t a long walk to the coast, but they traveled a ways along the sandy shores till they were far from civilization. The beaches began to turn into cliff faces, and the rocks that were wet and smooth from the ocean spray would be impossible to climb if the two of them were human, but with a little yoki, their fingers and toes bit deep into the rock, and they traversed their way to the center of the cliff that faced out to the ocean. Rona’s heart beat hard as she spotted the cave they were making their way towards, knowing this was where the awakened being hid, the last of the warriors from all the generations before. The smell of smoke began to cut through the ocean saltiness, a campfire no doubt; even if Rona could not sense the yoki of the awakened inside, it was clear that someone awaited them, and it was no human.

Stella reached the cave first and pulled herself inside before turning around and offering Rona a helping hand. Her arms shook as she reached out for Stella’s hand, and it wasn’t from the exertion from the climb. She was pulled up into the alcove, hearing the crackle of the fire and breathlessly looked around to see what was awaiting them, expecting to be face to face with a horrible beast.  
  
A woman glanced up from the far side of the fire, much younger than the two who just entered. She wore a black outfit that was beginning to fade from age, and a newer brown covering that wrapped around her neck and draped long over her shoulders. Her hair was long and a strawberry blonde color, not the striking red of Margo’s hair, but noticeably colored. Her hair fell to mid back, and was cut to bangs in the front, laying on her forehead just above her green eyes. Her eyes were the only thing that aged her, they were not wide and innocent like a child’s, but sharp and calculating. They were the eyes of a warrior. Eyes that sought vengeance for her suffering. She did not rise to greet them, instead waiting for them to join her around the fire like awaited friends.   
  
Rona lingered in the entryway a moment, taking in her surroundings. There was a bedroll in the back of the cave, a few tattered books, a meager coin purse, a kettle that was currently on the fire, and a small stack of wood for the campfire. Rona wondered what kind of existence this former warrior lived if she had to stay so hidden, why she remained alive all these years just to be confined to a small cave with no one to even speak to. But this was no human. No matter what form she assumed, this was a monster that sat before Rona. This very monster that craved human entrails so badly that it tore through Stella’s village and killed her family. Rona grit her teeth and couldn’t move from the spot she stood.   
  
Stella went ahead and took a seat at the fire, accepting a cup of tea from the awakened being. “She will join us in a moment, she needs to collect herself.”   
  
“It is understandable. If I was in her same position, I don’t think I would have remained so composed. To act against everything you’ve been taught and not kill a monstrosity that sits before you demands the utmost discipline.”   
  
Rona watched the two chat as if she was not even present. She wanted to yell out, to snap Stella out of this spell she had been put under, but she gritted her teeth instead. It was obvious that she just did not understand all that was going on, and she tried to settle her mind before joining the other two.   
  
“You said there was to be two more warriors joining you, did something happen?” The awakened poured a cup of tea for Rona, though she was certain it would go untouched.   
  
Stella sighed deeply, “The hunting party proved to be more cunning than I had predicted, but they have been dealt with.”   
  
“I am sorry for your loss. I understand all too well the pain of losing a close comrade; it’s like losing a part of you.”   
  
Rona sat down next to Stella and chewed on the inside of her cheek, her anxiety trying to get the better of her. “So, I’ve been kept in the dark of what’s going on here, and since one of my friends is dead because of it I would like some answers.” Her voice got sharp at the end, but she bit her tongue to keep her anger in check.

  
The awakened looked over at Stella, “You found the graves I presume? That would be why you’ve returned and have not taken my head.”   
  
“Yes, when we found this and did not recognize the symbol, we knew your story was true.” Stella pulled the neck cloth from her pack and handed it over.   
  
The awakened took the cloth and examined the symbol, a sorrowful look crossing her face. “This was Veronica’s symbol, the number 13 of my generation. One of the many that died at the hands of Rigardo. She was a close friend of Cynthia who survived the onslaught.”   
  
“So you’re not the only one who survived?” Rona was having a hard time sitting still, but she needed to know the whole story.   
  
“No, there was seven of us that survived the Northern War. We knew that the organization had sent us there to die, and so those of us who survived trained for seven years until our skills could advance no more between us, so that we may strike back and dismantle the organization. In a way, we had been successful; the other warriors and trainees of the organization united with us and we either killed or drove out the members of the organization. We managed to rid the island of yoma and awakened beings under captain Miria’s guidance, and so we had no more need to use our powers, we could live out the rest of our lives in peace as humans. A few warriors went their separate ways, some of my close friends married, I myself wed… Some of our older members passed away without ever knowing another day of strife, they died in this time of peace as humans, loved by the family we had all become to one another. But the organization could not- _would_ not let such a blow against them be forgotten. They returned to this island with an army of monstrosities now called the hunting party. These warriors are not as they seemed, more yoma than human, and crave human flesh like an awakened. They can far surpass a normal warrior’s limits and return to human form, and there seems to be no hinderance of regeneration amongst offensive type warriors. It’s almost like they found a way to fuse a warrior, an abyss feeder, and an awakened being into one body. They hunted us down like dogs, killing us one by one and destroying any and all evidence we ever existed. I’ve watched my friends fight and die before my very eyes, and in my last ditch effort to wreak as much havoc on the organization as possible, I allowed myself to awaken, surrounded by their army. What I never intended was that I would survive that attack.”   
  
“You survived against an army of the hunting party? Who the hell are you?”   


The awakened looked up, reflections of the flames dancing in her eyes.

 

“I am Clare, number 47 of my generation.”


End file.
